


five times he fell and one time he flew

by teasockschocolate



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother W.D., F/M, Fluff, aka my fav thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 22:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teasockschocolate/pseuds/teasockschocolate
Summary: Every second spent with her, every time his gaze brushed hers made him more and more sure that Anne Wheeler had pushed him into a free fall and he was more than fine with it.





	five times he fell and one time he flew

**i.**

Phillip Carlyle wasn’t a pervert who’d leer at women on the street, shouting obscene suggestions from a corner. He wasn’t a man who’d get a girl drunk enough to take advantage of her without her being able to fight back.

Sure, he’d had… experience with women, but only on especially cold nights when whiskey wasn’t warming him enough and he’d been far too lonely to say no to some all too eager girl. Then he’d let himself be steered away by the necktie into a night of forgetting himself in another’s arms; into the only affection he’d get otherwise, however emotionally disconnected both of them were. They would be gone by morning and he’d be left with a pounding headache and an even stronger self-hatred than he’d had the night before.

He certainly didn’t imagine himself to be the type to take one look at a girl and want to kiss her senseless; not for a physical fulfillment, but because he felt her soul take ahold of his and he didn’t care if he ever got it back. He’d never wanted to kiss someone because a single look made his heart stop and his breath hitch without her having uttered a single word. To kiss her because suddenly he felt that if she were in his life, he may never again go to bed and hope he never woke up.

But here he was, a pendulum of an acrobat swinging towards him and him wanting nothing more than to leap after her and never look back. To learn every inch of her soul and bare his own to her.

It’s like the feeling when you’re falling in a dream — exhilarating, terrifying, and unlike any other. He knows nothing about this girl nor she him. He shouldn’t want to spill every story and secret he has and want to hear her own. He shouldn’t want her to remove her bubblegum wig so he can see her natural hair (he wonders what it looks like). He shouldn’t want to pull her to him and learn to love rather than lust.

Barnum was speaking but he couldn’t draw his eyes from her calculating gaze as she glanced him up and down, sizing him up.

“What is your act, Mr. Carlyle?”

Oh, God, she spoke and to _him_. Her voice was melodic — as beautiful as she is — and drips with a drawl.

He couldn’t find his voice and later realizes it may be the first time he had been rendered speechless.

“I, um,” Phillip reminded himself to stop gaping like a fish. “I don’t have an act.”

Her eyebrow quirked and her smirk stopped his heart.

“Everyone’s got an act.”

She brushed by him, her eyes once more looking him up and down as keenly as she liked; she must know he was putty in her hands at the moment.

Her satin cape billowed behind her as she sauntered off, taking his breath with her. His head reeling, he turned back and finds his face inches from crossed arms in front of a chest. He raises his eyes to see a large man (her brother, his hazy brain supplies) and immediately looked away, pulling a look he hoped of feigned innocence.

 _Anne_ is her name.

The name is simple yet elegant as it starts at the back of his mouth and softly clips at his tongue against his teeth when he chastely whispers it to himself later.

**ii.**

Phillip soon realized after joining the circus that his heart no longer belonged to him; first Anne, now the adorable Barnum girls each clinging to an arm.

He’d swing them best he could and their wild giggles made him grin. He’d never had siblings and took his new life to change that, sneaking the girls candy, letting them dangle from his back while he followed their father around the circus, shamelessly privately teaching each one pranks he had learned in boarding school.

The girls were perfectly aware of the prejudice surrounding their father’s show but not caring in the slightest, and exceptionally bright. It was no surprise when he quickly found they adored Anne nearly as much as they did him; he couldn’t blame them.

He learned it one evening when coming out of a meeting going over the hasty financial records with Barnum .

They left his office, making casual conversation as they descended the stairs, stopping at the sound of a piercing yelp from the circus ring. Confused, Phillip jogged behind Barnum as he strode to the center of the building.

In the sandpit, Anne’s aerial hoop had been lowered so it only hung a few feet off the ground. She sat on the hoop, one arm secured around the top, one wrapped around Helen who was perched in her lap. Caroline pushed the pair like it was a swing, chasing them as it swing in languid circles.

“What do we have here?” Barnum tucked his hands in his pockets, his wide smile betraying his serious tone.

“Daddy!” Caroline let go of the hoop and Helen leapt off of Anne to race to heir father.

The sudden shift in weight caused Anne to slip and she barely caught herself. Phillip was by her side in an instant, eagerly looking for an opportunity to help her up, but she straightened herself out and kept her eyes on the girls.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnum,” Anne’s eyes were wide. “I should’ve asked before I let her up with me.”

Barnum shook his head, still smiling as he lifted Helen to his hip. “No harm done, right girls?”

“Can we swing with Anne more, Daddy?” Caroline hopped up and down, tugging her father’s arm while Helen bobbed her head in agreement.

“Not tonight,” He set Helen to her feet and ruffled each girl’s hair. “Time to head home for now. Say goodbye to Anne and Phillip. And thank Anne for playing with you.”

They groaned but complied.

“Thank you, Anne!” Caroline threw her arms around Anne’s middle. “Can I swing next time?”

“Of course,” The genuine smile across Anne’s face was rare and Phillip found himself smiling at the sight of it. He hoped one time he could make her smile like that. Just once and he’d be happy.

He was quickly snapped out of his daze by a sudden weight thrown at him as Helen surged herself towards him. “Bye Phillip!”

The girls then scampered after their father and Phillip was very aware that he was alone with Anne. She was aware too, as the smile dropped from her face and she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

“How long have you…” Phillip gestured vaguely upwards.

She looked like she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved at conversation, or terrified of it.

“Um,” She bit her bottom lip. “Long as I can remember, I guess. My brother and I didn’t get formal training for a while, but we’ve been making up our own stuff since we were kids.”

Phillip nodded, unsure what to say. “Well, Miss Wheeler, you’re wonderful. Er, both of you.”

Anne pursed her lips, the tinge of a tentative smile in her eyes. “Thanks.”

She leaned back, settling herself on the hoop; just touching her equipment she felt more at ease.

“I don’t know how you do it,” He laughed nervously. “Just the thought of being that high is terrifying.”

“Oh?”

“Guess I’ve never been too daring.”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “Well, maybe you should live a little, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Phillip,” He said instantly. “You can call me Phillip.” Her shoulders tensed. “Please.”

Her gaze softened, just for a second. “Alright, _Phillip_.”

He grinned widely (and probably looked like a fool but didn’t really care).

She dropped her gaze to the sand, kicking her feet absently.

“Why trapeze?”

The question seemed to startle her; her gaze shot up and her eyebrows furrowed. She thought for a second before hesitantly answering. “I wanted to fly.”

“But you also fall.”

She met his eyes then, a pleasantly surprised light in them. “That’s what makes it so exciting.”

He took a careful step closer to her.

“Like I said, Phillip,” She hopped down from the hoop and his neck was hot realizing just how close she was to him. Her face was inches from his and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything so badly as to close the gap and kiss her. She smirked again, eyes twinkling. “Live a little.”

**iii.**

He found her at the bow of the boat, hair billowing in the sea breeze and eyes closed as she breathed in the salt air. Maybe the Atlantic gave him more courage, but he shuffled close, only a few feet from her, before speaking.

“Hope you aren’t planning on breaking out any tricks before we hit land, Miss Wheeler,”

She cracked an eye open and the shadow of a smile danced on her face. “And what if I do, Mr. Carlyle?”

“Phillip.”

“Then Anne.”

“Okay.” His heart leapt and he bit back another stupid grin. “But if you do, _Anne_ , then I’m afraid the circus will be done one of our best acts and I’m afraid we simply can’t have this.”

“Hmm,”

“I’d have no choice but to jump in after you and I’d rather not get all wet.”

“Charming.”

He laughed. “I would, of course. But if I have a say, I’d prefer we both stay dry.”

“You’re assuming that both you have a say and that I would fall, neither of which I appreciate very much.”

He started to hastily apologize, but saw the glint of a tease in her eye.

“Forgive me, Anne, for doubting your abilities. I must have been confusing them with my own.”

“That’s better.” She smirked.

He grinned back, turning to face the water. Here he was, talking (dare he say _flirting_ ) with Anne Wheeler on a ship to London to announce his circus to the Queen of England.  “You never told me just how you got so good, you know.”

She bit her lip and looked for a second like she was going to close back up and retreat behind her walls. “That’s a long and not very exciting story, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It’s for another day.” Her voice was soft, but firm enough that he knew to drop it. And still, she’d said _another day_. Meaning she was planning on talking to him again. The thought alone brought a bounce to his feet.

“What about you? What happened to you that now you’re here?” She turned more fully to face him.

“Another long and not very exciting story,” He parroted. “But basically,” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess I’m similar to a lot of people here. Just looking for a place to belong.”

“What could you have here that you didn’t have before?” Her tone wasn’t reproachful like he may have anticipated, just genuinely curious.

“Just about everything worth having.” He laughed, though without much humor. “My life before was whiskey and people who didn’t give a damn unless I did something they approved of.”

“Huh,”

“They are not exactly approving of me running of to the circus, but,” He dared himself to wink. “Lately I’ve been told by multiple people to live a little.”

“Well,” Anne tilted her head, trying to get a better read on him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Her hand was only centimeters from his own and he wished he could muster enough courage to place his on top of hers. He nearly did until the boat rocked and they were thrown off balance. Anne’s shoulder smacked against his chest and he instinctively grabbed her to steady her.

Her dark eyes were wide when they looked up to his and she swallowed hard. “Sorry,”

“Don’t worry about it,” His voice was low and his arms still on her shoulders, her hands still resting on his chest.

Anne’s gaze flickered slightly downward and she wet her lips ever so slightly. She then suddenly jolted, tensing in his arms. “I should go,” She mumbled, ducking her head and slinking away.

He watched her, internally dancing with elation at successfully conversing with Anne Wheeler without making a total fool of himself. (And he’d gotten to hold her, even if it was just for a moment.)

**iv.**

He knew where she’d be. When life on the ground became to much, she’d always seek refuge in the air. The second he could break away from his parents, he tore down the dimly lit streets, his fathers words still ringing in his ears. “ _The help_ ” they’d called her. In two words instantly stripping away everything she had built for herself, all her talent, her wit, her poise, and stomped on her like an ant all because of the color of her skin.  He’d stood his ground this time; his hand in hers had not wavered when his parents approached them. But it hadn’t been enough (it never would be, it seemed) to keep her next to him.

He pushed open the circus doors, nearly tripping over his feet as he scrambled into the ring. She sat alone in the bleachers, quietly wrapping her wrists. He could see a trace of tear tracks on her cheeks as he got closer and he felt physically sick at knowing that he played a part in putting them there. Again. He didn’t deserve her, he knew he didn’t, but that wasn’t going to stop him from fighting for her with every scrap of himself that he could.

“They’re small minded people.” He kept his voice low and quiet, like he were approaching a wild animal. Any quick movements or wrong words and she would be gone. Maybe this time forever.

He tentatively reached for her hand but she tensed and he lowered his own.

“Why do you care what they think?”

“It’s not just them.” Her eyes brimmed and her voice was heavy as if chocking back a sob. “You’ve never had someone look at you the way your parents looked at me.” She dropped her face back to her hands, shaking her head to herself. “The way everyone would look at us.”

His chest nearly collapsed as she stood and walked away from him. He couldn’t let her go. This was it. This was his moment to throw everything he had at her.

“I haven’t tried to hide that I love you.” He called and she froze. “You want me too, I know you do.” He took a few steps towards her, carefully gauging her movements. “You’re the only thing that truly matters to me, Anne. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I never will again.”

She untied ropes, leading one to the center of the ring. He grabbed hold of it so she turned to face him. “Throw away what anyone else may say, Anne. This is about you and me. No one else. Just the fact that I can’t live without you.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across her face which encouraged him.

“All you have to do is jump with me. We can do it.”

She turned her gaze above her and pulled on her rope, sending her soaring above.

“It’s not just about us.”

He craned his neck to see her descending from the hoop; an ethereal silhouette against the dusty old building. A beacon of light and hope in his life that had been so dark until her.

“It doesn’t matter what we want when everyone else gets a say too. Doesn’t matter how badly we want each other when everything outside of here will do everything it can to break us apart.”

The building was dark, a solo spotlight illuminating the center of the ring. She was somewhere above him, and he circled, desperately searching for her among the rafters. She swung out of nowhere, and he jumped out of her way. The second time he was ready, and caught her when she flew by him. The collision knocked them both to the ground in a spiral; she hovered above his waist and his hands gripped her hips, desperate to keep her close. Her gaze softened when she reached out to caress his face, though she shook her head.

“I’m not the one meant for you.”

His fingers curled tighter around her, but she tugged the rope next to her and was soaring to the sky again. He couldn’t follow her up there and she knew that, so he frantically fumbled for the rope, pulling down with all his strength.

She twisted back down and he caught her, guiding her over his shoulder back to the sandpit, carefully yet desperately pulling her to the ground, to him. She curled into his chest, close enough for his lips to graze the side of her throat and for him to get a whiff of a mix of floral shampoo and something uniquely Anne. She was then yanked back into the stratosphere, this time pulling him with her. Gravity spun them in a circle before she dropped back to the ground, grabbing his hand to return to earth with her.

And then she flew again. But if she couldn’t join him in his world than he would join her in hers. He tore to the balcony, her curious amber eyes following him and flung himself into a free fall to her. He caught both the rope and her, intertwining their legs as they made a reluctant descent back to the ground.

He kept a tight hold to her when their feet hit the ground. He would not let her go. Her forehead fell against his own and her eyes were squeezed shut. He leaned his face forward ever so slightly but stopped there. He’d never hidden for a second how badly he wanted her, it’d been her resistance that kept them apart but he wouldn’t force her.

For far too long, neither moved. Their breath synchronized, chests rising and falling against each other in unison.

“I want you,” Her words slurred a little; her eyes opened but were downcast, refusing to meet his. “But I can’t have you.”

A silent tear escaped an eye and a lump rose in Phillip’s throat. He shook his head ever so slightly, and it took ever fiber of willpower he had not to just kiss her senseless right there. To feel her, to taste her, to show her what she was ending before it even began.

“I’m sorry, Phillip,” More tears began to fall and he reached his free hand to wipe them away. She shook her head again, reclining out of his reach and placed one hand on top of his on her hip. Her hand shook as it gently pushed it away, falling limply to his side.

His voice was gone and he was only able to wordlessly mouth her name as she backed away slowly before breaking into a quick dash away.  

**v.**

She was pushing herself too hard; it seemed every second of every day she was on the ropes. Dark circles were forming under her eyes and the time he helped her get up from the ground (the closest he’d gotten to her since the night in the ring) her hands had been boiling with blisters and rope burn. 

He knew it was because of him, and ached to be able to help her. Every time he caught a glimpse of her outside his office window, feverishly pulling herself atop her bar with an intensity unlike any other, he wanted nothing more than to coax her down, to convince her to sleep, to take on the pain she felt even though he knew it was just as bad as his. It would only make it worse, he knew that. Every time they’d brush past each other backstage, every time their eyes met in a vanity mirror, the tension had been palpable to everyone around. He ached when he was with her and he ached when he wasn’t. He just couldn’t win anymore.

W.D. seemed to have given up trying to convince Anne to slow down. Instead he began accompanying her to her late night practices, when she would let him, silently spotting her from the stands. It gave Phillip a smidge of comfort to know that there was someone else looking out for her; someone she would allow to take care of her sometimes. Anne’s practices had been rigorous, but not any more dangerous than they had been before, until one day.

The troupe was rehearsing a number Phillip wasn’t a part of, so he’d lingered backstage during their runs. He checked props, costumes, triple checked the rigging of the trapeze ropes before heading into the ring to watch. What he was met with added at least five years to his life.

In the midst of a number, the troupe rushed to the center, extending their arms. Above them, Anne broke free of her trapeze bar, somersaulting in the air before swooping towards the ground, arms folded across her chest.

Phillip was frozen, his heart lunged into his throat and his stomach twisted into a horrible knot. The troupe caught Anne effortlessly and she easily bent into a back walkover out of their net of arms. They struck an ending pose for the number before turning and talking amongst themselves.

“Phillip!” Charles called, nothing him. “What’d ya think?”

Phillip realized his jaw had fallen and snapped it closed. He hesitated for a minute, eyes sweeping over the troupe and landing on Anne. She was unscathed, arms crossed  over her torso and studying the earth. 

“No way.” Phillip gave the tiniest shake of his head, anger replacing his previous anxiety. “We’re not doing that.”

Anne’s eyes shot up, a glint of a challenge shining in them. “Oh?” An eyebrow raised and Phillip fought the instinct to flee her cold gaze. “I don’t believe you’re in a position to tell me how to do my act, _Mr_. Carlyle.”

Phillip scoffed a little. “I certainly am when it could kill one of my performers.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “I’m not gonna be killed.”

“Exactly. You won’t. Because you’re not going to do that.”

Her eyes were blazing now, her arms uncrossed and hands balled into fists at her sides. “Watch me.” She spat, turning on her heel and storming out of the ring.

Phillip was then aware of the rest of the group, awkwardly glancing around them. He cleared his throat. “Good work, everyone. Go get some rest.”

They filed out and Phillip sank onto the lip of the ring, his palms digging into his eyes. He could sense a person standing before him and hesitantly glanced up.

W.D. Wheeler stood in front of him, head tilted, face blank. He was silent for a few beats before saying “You can’t tell her what to do, you know.”

Phillip sighed. “I know.”

“She’s gonna do it anyway. Whether you like it or not. Hell, she’ll definitely do it since you don’t.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath. “Why is she doing that?”

W.D. squatted next to Phillip, a foot or two away on the ring. He hesitated again before speaking. “She’s always been like this. She lets go sometimes. It’s her way of feeling like she’s got some control, I think.”

“So she just lets herself nearly die. Just for spite?”

“I don’t pretend to get it,” W.D. shook his head. “She scares the hell out of me too. But there’s nothing to do about it. She just has to do it.”

“I just don’t want her to get hurt.” Phillip’s voice was quiet, and he knew he was breaching on dangerous ground discussing Anne with her protective brother.

“I know. I don’t either.” To his mild surprise, W.D. offered him a seemingly sympathetic smile. “She’s hurting too, you know. This is the only way she knows to deal with it.” 

“She doesn’t have to.” Phillip mumbled.  Anne didn’t have to let go of a trapeze bar and fall forty feet to get whatever rush of power she needed. She didn’t need to work herself into the grave because she was heartbroken. She could give in. She could be with Phillip. He could take her pain away. If she’d only let him.

“But she thinks she does.” W.D. shrugged. “And this is what makes sense to her.”

Phillip certainly didn’t want to watch Anne plummet to her possible death every night, but W.D. was right. There was no stopping her. “Should I apologize? Or will she just get madder?”

W.D. bit his lip. “Can’t say. Worth a try, though.”

Phillip nodded and stood up, dusting the sand off his legs before starting off.

“Hey, Carlyle!” W.D. called. He had a warning on his face when Phillip turned around. “I know you think you love Annie. And I think you might too, but that doesn’t change that I’ll kill you if I catch her cryin’ again cause of you.”

Phillip nodded numbly before turning back and heading to the dressing rooms. His hand hovered over Anne’s and Lettie’s door for a solid ten seconds before he gathered the courage to knock. Lettie swung the door open immediately, her face turning into a knowing smirk when she saw him there. 

“Hey Annie, I gotta check my stuff for the show.” Lettie called over her shoulder, whispering a “good luck” to Phillip as she slipped past him. He hesitated in the doorframe, taking in the room he didn’t recall ever actually being in. The room was small, only holding two narrow cots and a dresser. Various combs and wrist tape littered the tops of the dresser that was overflowing with something vibrantly purple. Anne sat cross legged on a cot, presumably hers, glaring down at a book in her lap. She barely acknowledged Lettie’s leaving and didn’t  seem to notice Phillip. He cleared his throat awkwardly and she jumped.

“Sorry, Anne” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just, um, I just came to—“

“What do you want?” The venom was gone, leaving only exhaustion. He noticed that she hadn’t added his name to her question, but he supposed that was better than Mr. Carlyle.

“I wanted to apologize.” He pursed his lips, taking a tentative step closer to her. He left the door wide open, giving her an escape if she really needed it. “I can’t tell you how to do your act, I know that. I’m sorry.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m just worried about you. I can’t see you get hurt.”

“Well,” Her voice was thick and she didn’t look at him, instead intently staring at the afghan beneath her. “I’m afraid I’m not yours to worry about.”

“Anne…” Phillip crouched before her, trying to meet her eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

“’S fine.”

“Not just for today. For everything. I wish I could change it all for you.”

“Don’t say stuff like that.”

“It’s true.” He gingerly raised his hands to the tips of his fingers sat on the edge of the bed, forcing his way slightly into her line of vision. “I’d do anything to fix this for you, Anne. I wish it didn’t have to hurt like this.”

“You can’t do anything,” She whispered.

“Anne…”

“Please leave me alone.”

He hesitated, searching what he could see of her face. Eventually he rose, backing out of the room quietly. “I’m sorry, Anne.”

+1

He could still feel the burn of the flames, still see the arching orange streaks towering above him behind his closed eyes. A metal bed frame pressed into his back, a cripple lined pillow was under his head. People were talking around him but it all sounded like his head was underwater. A hand brushed his cheek and he could have sworn it was Anne’s but that was impossible.

She was dead.

She was dead and he had failed to save her. He had somehow gotten out of the inferno while she had been left to die in the most horrifically painful way imaginable. Chalk it up to another way that Phillip had failed her. And this time he couldn’t beg her to forgive him, couldn’t take her hand and not let go. She was gone and he’d never see her fly again. Now all he would do was fall. 

He didn’t know how long he was unable to open his eyes; they were sealed shut with a layer of grime, and frankly he couldn’t find it in him to care. He didn’t want to face a world without Anne Wheeler.

There was a steady weight in his hand consistently, Someone was watching over him. Someone wanted him, for whatever reason, to wake up. The thought of Caroline or Helen at his bedside, seeing him in this horrific state gave him an ounce of motivation to flex his fingers. A second hand grasped his hand and it was lifted to someone’s face, tucked under a chin. It was soft and warm and gave him an oddly comforting feeling. 

With significant effort, he pried his eyes open, blinking several times to adjust to the light. He heard a sharp exhale above him and struggled to make out the blurry outline at his bedside.

If it hadn’t been for the shooting pains coursing through his body and the shake of her hands over his own, he would’ve sworn he was either dead or dreaming. 

Anne. 

Her curls were wild, her face covered in a thin layer soot and her eyes stained with tears. She sobbed once, pulling his hand to her chest.

It hurt to take a deep enough breath to speak, but he could hardly register the pain.

“You’re here?”

More tears flowed when she nodded and she lowered their hands. As cautiously as if he were made of glass, her hands cupped his face and she hesitated for just a moment before surging down to him. 

His brain was still foggy from sleep and it took him too long to fully realize that _Anne Wheeler_ was _kissing_ _him_.

Her lips were soft — a sharp contrast to her calloused hands on his cheeks — and firmly pressed to his. When she pulled back a little, her forehead resting on the bridge of his nose, he was sure he was smiling like a loon but didn’t bother to try to hide it.  He extended a bandaged hand to cup the back of her neck and guide her back down to him, kissing her with more fervour. His other hand wound through her curls, clutching her with all that he could as if she would vanish into thin air if he let her go.

Lips swollen and slightly panting, they reluctantly came up for air, but Phillip kept his hold on her. 

“I thought… I thought you were gone.” He rasped. “How…?”

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip. “I got out the back way. I wasn’t in there when you went in.” Tears sprung back into her eyes. “I’m sorry…”

He frowned. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Anne.”

“You could have died.”

“You’d have been worth it.”

Her face didn’t contort with pain like it would normally have when he’d said something like that. She didn’t try to push him away or let him down. Instead she smiled shyly and her eyes shone; she leaned back and pressed a quick kiss in between his eyes. 

“So, are you… okay with…this…now?” He pursed his lips slightly, terrified of her saying no.

She smiled. “Yes,”

He was sure he was grinning like an idiot again. “I should’ve run into a fire a long time ago. Or  just keep running into them.”

She smirked and playfully rolled her eyes. “I’ve been waiting here for three days waiting for you to wake up. I’d rather not to that again.”

His face sobered immediately. “You’ve been here for three days?”

“That’s how long you were out.”

“You didn’t go home?”

“I couldn’t.” It was her smile’s turn to drop. She sat up further and twisted her hands in her lap. “If you’d died… and because of me and I wasn’t here…”

He covered her hands with one of his. “But I didn’t.”

She met his eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. “No, you didn’t.”

“You should sleep, Anne. You must feel awful. Go home… or, wherever everyone is now.” He didn’t want her to leave but felt awful with her being up for days worrying over him.

Anne tilted her head to the side. “I can’t leave you,” She said quietly, tracing a finger along his jawline. 

“Then stay.” He caught her hand and tugged gently on it, trying to pull her down to him.

She laughed. “This cot ain’t that big, Phillip.”

“I’d move over, but I don’t know if I can…”

“Here.” She disentangled their fingers and rose from the bed for a moment. She dragged over a chair that had been by the head of the bed the the middle. She tucked her legs onto the seat and leaned back so her upper half squeezed against his on the bed. 

“Hi,” He laughed a little at her awkward arrangement. 

“Hi,” She grinned back, tilting her head to peck his cheek. 

He turned his head and met her lips with his own, reaching a hand again to her hair. 

Long ago, he had dove headfirst after Anne Wheeler into a free fall. Now, lying with her he was no longer blindly stumbling alone through the air— he was soaring high into the stratosphere and with her along with him.


End file.
